an old writer and his words

  • ENO DOESN’T UNDERSTAND 正法眼蔵 語十九

    You ask meif I understandthe preceptsand follow them.You frown whenI say I do not.Remember wellthat the young childhas no understandingof the preceptsand walks easilyalong the Way. A reflection on case 59 of the Shobogenzo Koans (Dogen’s True Dharma Eye)

    Lou Faber

  • CROWING

    Imagine, for just a moment,you have become a crow.You know that you will bedetested by most eventually,your voice despised by allwho are forced to hear it.And while you can fly, youknow you won’t be morewelcome regardless of whereyou choose to land. If you cannot imagine this,then imagine you havebecome a politician,for that will, for you,…

    Lou Faber

  • IN MY BAG

    I carry my pastin a monk’s bagthat rests on my shoulder. In it you will findmy history, or bitsof it, names I havebeen given, given up,memories of childhood,pictures of my parentswho I never knew,aged in my mind fromthe photos in yearbooks,all that I have of them.. I still have roomin my bag, perhapsmore room than…

    Lou Faber

  • OF THE CHILD

    How many times have weheard someone intonethe never ending expression:“in the best interests of the child.” Never, I imagine, has anyoneasked the child what he or shethought was in their best interest,for children, we assume, cannotknow what is in their interest. A child would gladly tell youbut an adult would often disagree,anchored to the memoryof…

    Lou Faber

  • SPRING

    She says her favorite monthis May, when spring’s gripis tightest, but most of allshe cherishes the rain.She is intimate with the rain,there is a privacy that onlyshe can concede, if she wants.She can take a drop of rainand it is hers alone, she needonly share it with the sky,it is always clean on her tongue.She…

    Lou Faber

  • HOME

    I have never beento Liszkowo but I have beento Charleston, West Virginiaand visited the B’nai Jacob Cemeteryand for me, that is as closeas I need to come to Liszkowofor I don’t speak Lithuanianthough it runs through my veins.I have visited the Highlandsand the Isle of Islaybut I never saw myfather’s kin reach out to me,although…

    Lou Faber

  • LUNA’S SONG

    Tonight, when the sunhas finally conceded the dayto its distant but ever larger kin,the moon will again singher ever waning songhoping we will joinin a chorus we haveso long forgotten,bound to the earthin body and in waxing thought. We will stop and listenperhaps, over the dinof the city, the traffic,the animals conversingwith the sky, our…

    Lou Faber

  • CITY OF DREAMS

    I live in city thatisn’t a city at all,despite what it callsitself. It is a suburbof suburbs, whichin Florida can passfor a city. The birds ignorethe gates and wallsand come and gofreely. We live insidethe gates and wallsand remember livingin a real city.

    Lou Faber

  • TOODLE-OO

    So, Bly, you have finallygone and joined the parade,holding out the longest as thoughthat was a badge you couldsomehow carry out with you. Take consolation that youbested Ginsberg and Corsoand even outlasted Ferlinghetti,though he was giving youa run for your money. And Plath, well shewas the first, far too youngeveryone said, but now Iam left…

    Lou Faber

  • INTO THE BRUSH

    I have carefully peeledback the skin of a hundred snakesand left their twisted formscurled around mesquiteas so many skirts. Canadia geesefollow carefully worn pathsacross an October skyundeterred by storm cloudsgiving chase from the west.A wolf wanders downfrom the tree line to the edgeof the highway. She can tastethe approach of winter,bitter on her tongue, her…

    Lou Faber